Already she had sent him twenty pounds, and never written to explain to him why it was she had not sent it back sharply directly he returned it. Beyond was a narrow bridge, crossing a circular building, at the bottom of which lay a deep well. There he sat, cheerfully friendly in his sex’s freedom—the man she loved, the one man she cared should unlock the way to the wide world for her imprisoned feminine possibilities, and he seemed regardless that she stifled under his eyes; he made a jest of all this passionate insurgence of the souls of women against the fate of their conditions. He then made off. ’ Miss Froxfield regarded him in some interest. " "I cannot consent to it," replied Sir Rowland firmly.
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